The Wrath of Molly Weasley
by Sola Haze
Summary: Likely set somewhere after HBP. It's been two days since George was taken by some Death Eaters. Molly finds a suspicious character sneaking around the back of the Burrow and stuns him. In the ensuing interrogation, Molly gets a little vicious looking for answers. Three-shot.
1. The Wrath of Molly Weasley

**This is the first time I've written a oneshot in a long time, but I'm very satisfied with how it turned out. Rated for torture, I guess.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm not British. I'm not blonde. Connect the dots.**

* * *

Any mother could agree that when their child is missing, so is a piece of their heart. Whether the mother has two, four, or even eight children doesn't matter. The effect is still the same.

Molly Weasley had been grieving for the past two days over the disappearance of George. The last she'd seen of him was when he came into the upstairs bedrooms after dark to wake everyone up after having spotted something suspicious.

Molly blinked sleepily as the light overhead burned her eyes, Arthur stirring next to her. The only thing she could comprehend was her son's voice coming from the doorway.

"Mum! Dad! There are Death Eaters outside. I saw 'em!" And a second later, he was gone.

Molly hurried after him, disregarding the fact that she was only wearing a nightgown as she ran outside with the rest of her family behind her. But... George wasn't there. And there were no Death Eaters either. Everyone was gone.

That night was spent sleepless, searching futilely, but in Molly's heart, she knew it was too late. Her son was gone. With the Death Eaters, likely for information on Harry. Information he didn't have.

After the search had concluded, Molly collapsed into tears for the rest of the day, sobbing until she looked like she'd been hit with the conjunctivitis curse. No one said a word to her. There were no words. No one could comfort her. She'd just lost her son. Any words would be meaningless.

Two days later, Molly had resigned herself to cooking, cleaning, and straightening out every corner of the Burrow in depression while Arthur was off trying to get help from the Ministry and her older children were searching fervently. But there was little she could do.

She glanced over at the grandfather clock with the Weasleys' names engraved on the hands, allowing herself to step away from the dishes. The moment she let go, the brush went back to scrubbing the pan on its own. Ron, Ginny, Fred, and herself all had their hands pointing to HOME, while Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Percy had their hands pointed elsewhere. Yet, George's remained stubbornly at MORTAL PERIL. Molly shook her head, bringing her sleeve up to dab at her eyes. She felt so useless. She wished there was some way she could help.

Then, the alarm went off. Molly looked up suddenly, then waved her wand quickly to silence the alarm before it could echo throughout the whole house. A day earlier she'd placed an intruder charm on the house in case anyone unexpected stopped by. That was what it meant when it rang. It meant something was wrong. Untying her apron, Molly grabbed her wand and turned to the closest door to outside. Whoever was anywhere near her house at this instant had chosen a very bad time to show their face. They were going to feel the wrath of Molly Weasley.

It was around the back that she found them. A middle-aged man in all black, but not wearing any distinct Death Eater-like robes or mask. This didn't discourage her in the least. He was searching the back of the house, looking for an inconspicuous way to enter undetected. Or, at least, that was what it looked like. Molly was not a Legilimens. She'd never truly know what was going on inside his head, but theories seemed to knit themselves from stray strands of both hope and despair alike.

Molly brandished her wand, pointing it at the man, her fingers shaking with restrained fury. She had to try her best not to shout the spell, as that would blow her cover. Luckily, he was not very aware of his surroundings when Molly whispered, " _Stupify!_ " Yet, he still dropped like a stone.

Molly practically marched over, looking down at the man for a second, prodding him lightly with her foot. She crossed her arms and huffed quietly. _This_ was what You-Know-Who had sent to attack her family? How utterly pathetic. Well, no matter, Molly pointed her wand at the body and muttered, " _Mobilicorpus_." The body of the man hovered a few inches off the ground and followed her as she marched back towards the house, her mind a seething cauldron of rage.

This man knew where her son was. And he would tell her what he knew whether he liked it or not.

* * *

Ron couldn't help but gape when his mum walked right past his perch on the bottom step dragging a man behind her. He didn't recognize the person at all. But, from the look of anger on Mrs. Weasley's face, he could make a pretty good guess who they were. Nervously, he stood and turned before shouting up the stairs, "Fred! Ginny! Mum's found something weird outside the house!"

His shouts were followed by the quick pace of footsteps and the sight of Fred and Ginny practically racing each other down the stairs.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," Ron replied, looking towards the door Molly had just gone through. "I reckon she dragged him in there."

"'Him'?" Fred repeated.

But Ron didn't respond. He just walked up to the doorway to get a look at what was going on. Molly had dragged a chair into the center of the room and with a flick of her wand, the man's body was thrown quite roughly into it. Brandishing the wand tightly, she muttered, " _Incarcerous_." Ropes flew from the tip of her wand, entwining themselves around the man, binding him to the chair and gagging him. Finally, Molly pointed her wand at his face and said " _Obscuro_." A moment later, a blindfold materialized itself around the man's eyes, completely blinding him.

"Um, mum?" Fred spoke up from the doorway. "What are you doing?"

Molly whipped around, her eyes wide with a startled look, but she composed herself into an emotionless mask. "I found this man looking for a way into our house." She gestured to the man, her lip unconsciously curling in a sneer. "I'm going to talk to him. You three should go back upstairs."

Ginny frowned. "But, mum-"

"I said _upstairs!_ "

The three frowned. "This is about George, isn't it?"

Molly scowled at the wall but did not respond to Fred's question. This only encouraged the three to come in. "Let us help," Ginny said firmly, surprising the others with her offer. "George is our brother. If this guy knows where he is, we're helping you."

Molly frowned. "I'd prefer if you didn't." She muttered. After all, this was dirty business, and she didn't want any of her children to see her take part in it, let alone take part in it themselves.

"Please, mum," Ron said, blinking his big blue eyes. The others joined in, giving her a chorus of puppy dog eyes.

Molly sighed finally. "Alright, but you are to stay back unless I ask you to come forward."

The three nodded their agreement. Molly nodded firmly back before turning to the man and ripping the gag out of his mouth before pointing her wand at his chest and saying, " _Rennervate!_ "

The man jerked stiffly, but the restraints held fast as he slowly awoke. He turned his head from left to right, carefully wetting his lips as he searched for something to look at. It was only a moment later that he realized he couldn't move his hands. Molly watched emotionlessly as he fidgeted and twisted, trying to remove his arms from the ropes, but to no avail. "Where am I?" He called out, louder than he needed to. "What am I doing here?"

Molly crossed her arms with stiff, rigid posture. "You're in my house," She answered sternly. "Where you were trying to break into only a few minutes before I knocked you out."

The man stiffened. Anyone could see the wheels turning in his mind and the panic setting in his stomach. "I'm sorry, ma'am." He almost stuttered. "I think you're mistaken-"

"Don't lie to me!" Molly shrieked, making the children behind her jump. She stalked closer to the man, her wand firmly gripped in her hand. "Don't give me your excuses. I know what you were doing." She leaned over him intimidatingly. "Two days ago, a group of Death Eaters kidnapped my son, and now they've sent you back to take another, but I assure you that will not be happening while I am still breathing. Now," She shoved her wand under his neck. "Where is my son?"

The man tried to shake his head, but she pushed the wand in deeper. "I... I d-don't know what you're t-t-talking about, m-ma'am!"

"Take the blindfold off, mum!" Ron suggested. "It's easier to read people's eyes."

"I have a better idea," Molly responded. "But, I'll take this off just because I want to see your face." Molly's wand slid under the blindfold and pulled it up away from the man's face. He blinked, squinting at the new light, then looked up at her. His eyes were sky blue.

Molly glared sharply into his eyes as her hand went down to his arm, grabbing his sleeve from beneath the ropes. At once, it seemed the man knew what she was going to do. Molly mercilessly pulled up his sleeve, revealing the dull red mark on his inner left forearm. The man stared at it in shock, then pursed his lips as Molly's eyes narrowed. "Mistaken, am I?"

The Death Eater's face hardened from panicked to flat-out stubborn as he turned his head away, keeping his mouth shut. "Oh no," Molly said in a warning tone, her wand trained on him once again. "Don't you dare ignore me. I want to know where my son is, and I want to know now."

"Your son is as good as _dead_." The Death Eater spat defiantly.

"Liar!" Ginny cried out, drawing her wand as Ron and Fred tried to restrain her.

"Why don't we try this the easy way," Molly's voice was sickly sweet. "If you tell me where my son is, I won't hurt you."

The Death Eater snorted. "Fat chance of that happening, Blood Traitor."

Molly's eye twitched, her lip curled. Then, she was rolling up her sleeves and aiming her wand directly at his chest. "The hard way it is, then."

"Hit him hard, mum!" Fred shouted.

The Death Eater sneered at her. He didn't expect her to do it. But Molly was done playing games. "Why not begin with the supersensory charm?" She tilted her head as the wand began to glow with the charm channeling through it and into the Death Eater. His head twitched irritably as his ears likely began to prickle.

"So, what are you going to do?" He asked, mockingly. "Torture me? I didn't think you had the spine."

"Oh, I'm more than capable." She warned, her wand less than two inches from his chest. "But I thought maybe something lighter first will at least weaken that stubborn ego." Then, without warning, she shouted, " _Rictusempra!_ "

The man gasped, suddenly wiggling in the restraints, but not in pain. Rather, his mouth was contorted into an unnatural smile, and he was wheezing for breath, trying to double over, but the ropes held fast. Rictusempra, the tickling charm. It rendered the stubborn Death Eater to a laughing mess. Tears of mirth leaked from his eyes as his face turned red from the lack of air.

Molly released the spell. After all, her goal wasn't to suffocate him. She allowed him a second to collect himself before she spoke again. "Would you like to speak to me now?"

The Death Eater didn't respond, though it was clear he had been given more than enough time to breathe properly again. He was simply stubborn. Molly scowled. He was stubborn indeed, but a mother was an expert in dealing with those who were stubborn. However, right now, her three children were standing behind her, and she didn't want to do anything while they were there.

"Could you three go upstairs?" She asked.

They frowned, and Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Ron caught her shoulder and shook his head, nodding towards the door. With a sigh, all three left the room, but Ron hesitated behind the rest long enough to hear his mother shout, " _Diffindo!_ " And a strangled cry cracked through before he heard another shout of, " _Impervius!_ " And the closed door no longer allowed any sound through.

With a new shiver in his step, Ron followed his siblings the rest of the way upstairs.

* * *

An hour later, Molly Weasley was sweating heavily, and her dress had a few stains of blood on it. It was nothing compared to the Death Eater. Still silent to her questions, the Dark Wizard bled all over her carpet. The Diffindo spell had left numerous cuts all over his body, tearing through his clothing and straight into his flesh. A few burns were littered here and there from an Incendio charm, and a stinging hex had swollen his shoulder a quarter of its original size. Yet, the Death Eater remained silent.

"I'm not playing." She warned, bringing her wand up to his neck, which elicited a quiet whimper, but nothing more. This gave her somewhat of a strange satisfaction. But at the same time, she was horrified by what she was doing. She had known she would have to hurt him, to sink as low as the Death Eater himself, to torture, since she knew there was no other way she would get George's location. And she knew she'd never sink low enough to use the Cruciatus Curse, but that didn't make this any better.

"Tell me where my son is, now."

The Death Eater was twitching mildly, a sign that the supersensory charm was still in effect. It was truly a cruel division of her own. To enhance one's sense of touch before an interrogation such as this was harsh, to say the least, and Molly knew it, but she'd learned to stop caring. Every time she pictured George's face, it only drove her further.

The Death Eater was watching her carefully as those thoughts went through her head. He saw the flicker of remorse in her eyes and thought he could take advantage of it.

"You hate this." He said. "You don't want to do this."

He was sadly mistaken.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get my son back. _Diffindo!_ "

The Death Eater yelped as the skin on his ankle tore open, blood dripping down his already-bloodied feet. He bit his lip hard, his forehead lined with defined creases. She wouldn't give up. But neither would he. Molly pressed her wand into his cheek, and he flinched. The tip was uncomfortably hot like she was about to cast an Incendio charm. The thought of receiving one to his face made him shrink.

"Where is my son?" The tip of the wand found the soft crook beneath his ear, and it was getting warmer. The Death Eater bit back every hiss he wished to let out as the wand burned mercilessly.

"He's..." He gasped, making Molly pause, watching him expectantly. "He's... just as weak as you..." He breathed a smile.

The ginger reared back. _Crack!_ The punch hit his jaw with force enough to break his cheekbone. The Death Eater gasped but shut his mouth. Every movement of his cheek hurt. The bones had snapped, and the ends were rubbing together, making his face burn.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but they snapped wide when he heard footsteps walking away from him. Molly headed to a cabinet in the corner of the room, the one that usually only Arthur opened. It was kept under magic sealing charms to keep Fred and George out when they were younger. The Death Eater felt a chill run up his spine when she pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Arthur saves this for after hard days at work, but I don't think he'll mind." She uncapped the bottle and approached, deliberately being slow to draw the suspense as the Death Eater began struggling. He knew what was coming. Molly looked over the several still-bleeding cuts all over his body, licking her lips tentatively. And somehow, deep inside, she knew she was going to enjoy this.

"Last chance." She warned.

The Death Eater pursed his lips, watching her with guarded eyes. He swallowed, then he spoke.

"Go to hell."

Molly frowned, but uncapped the firewhiskey and tilted the bottle.

* * *

Molly walked briskly out of the room with plenty of answers. Walking into the dining room, she was greeted by three pairs of horrified brown eyes. They were staring down at her bloodstained dress, her pinprick pupils. Her body burned with adrenaline.

"Um, mum?" Ron began, stuttering his words. "A-are you o-"

"Quickly," She snapped, marching past them without so much as a glance in their direction. She headed straight for the fireplace. "We must tell the Order immediately."

The children nodded, following silently, but none could help a glance at the door Molly had left. The temptation to look inside pulled at all three of them, but they dared not. For they knew, if they did, they would never think of their mother the same way again.

And so, one by one, they each climbed into the fireplace, taking their own floo powder and shouting "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place" each in turn. Finally, it was Ron's turn. He took his powder and swallowed as he stepped into the ashen alcove, and, in a proud voice that didn't match the panic he felt inside, he shouted, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" He dropped the powder, and in an instant, he was gone in a green flash of fire.

* * *

 **No, I didn't get it wrong. The books say when the Dark Mark is inactive, it's red. I can't tell how OOC this is exactly because I'm pretty sure this is what a mother becomes when someone has kidnapped her child. At least I gave hints that she showed remorse. At least I never let her use the Cruciatus Curse. Now, THAT would be OOC.**

 **I'm pretty sure that Mrs. Weasley is fully capable of becoming this vicious. I mean, her boggart is the dead corpses of her family, and Hell hath no fury like a mother's rage, so...**

 **I think this fic makes me even more afraid of Mrs. Weasley, even if it's not canon. The fact that she was able to break a Death Eater makes me shiver. And I f***ing wrote it!**

 **I might have a part two about what happens at the Order, maybe the rescue of Fred and his recovery. That is IF I get enough reviews. Thank you all for reading!**


	2. The Guilt of Severus Snape

**Toxinmask18: Wow! That was awesome! I think that would be completely in character for Molly and I do like that she tried to keep her kids away from it, please make a part two!**

 **Daisy Rhine: Goodness you made Mrs. Weasley scary. Besides that, Go Mrs. Weasley!**

 **Thanks, you guys for the reviews. I didn't respond, but I showed them. That counts for something. This next chapter has more characters, more settings, more conflicts, and more scary Mrs. Weasley. And, from the title, you already know there will be Snape. Enjoy!**

 **WARNING: Swearing, Torture, etc.**

* * *

Out of the fire and into the dining room. Molly's face was blank, but anyone who looked closely enough would see the fire behind her eyes. She quickly turned through the doorway into the next room. There was only one person inside, sitting near the wall with a book in his hand. He looked up, his lifeless black eyes taking her in before nodding once.

"Molly."

She nodded back. "Severus." She said. "Where are the others?"

In a single jerky movement, he made a small head gesture to the kitchen door.

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You're not with them?"

Snape gave a bitter smile. "It seems I've lost a significant amount of trust."

Molly scoffed quietly as the sound of the fireplace echoed through the room. "Hmm," She muttered as her children appeared behind her. "I wonder why."

Her children followed her as she moved quick-stepped to the next room. The door shut noiselessly behind them. Inside, standing around the long table, was Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks. Everyone looked up upon their entry, but they paused, all different kinds of shock crossing their faces. They were staring at the blood all over her dress, watching as her fingers twitched in the adrenaline aftershock.

Remus was the first to recover. "Molly, what's wrong?"

"George," Molly said. "He's-"

"We know, Molly." Moody interrupted. "Arthur told us a few days ago."

"No!" Molly snapped. "I know where he is!"

Everyone blinked, the silence back in all its uncomfortable glory. Again, Lupin spoke first. "How?"

Molly's face reflected something that almost looked like a twisted sort of pride. "I found a Death Eater trying to break into my house, maybe trying to grab another one of us." She explained simply. "He told me everything I needed to know."

Lupin narrowed his eyes at the blood on her dress. "Molly, what did you do?"

Her face was blank and emotionless. "I persuaded him."

Shaklebolt released a short sigh. "Moody, go get him."

Mad-Eye nodded, limping out of the room to retrieve the Death Eater from the Weasley home. "Why didn't you bring him here?" Kingsley asked.

Molly averted eye-contact. "It was a personal matter."

Luckily, they seemed to understand and didn't press further. "Mum," Ron spoke up. "Where is he?"

Now it was Molly's turn to sigh. This was the part that made it hardest. "Malfoy Manor."

Fred threw his arms up in exasperation. "Oh, great. Because it's not like that's Voldie's main headquarters."

"Shut up, Fred!" Ginny snapped, her eyes livid with anger. "Mum, what are we gonna do?"

"Rescue him, of course."

But Tonks shook her head. "If He sent a Death Eater to capture another one of you," She pursed her lips, as though she absolutely despised what she was saying. "Maybe George is..."

"No." Molly hissed the word in a quick snap. No, she wouldn't believe it. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He wasn't-

"Molly, you need to think rationally," Lupin said, making the mistake of drawing closer to her, a sympathetic frown on his lips. "You need to listen to-"

Suddenly, Molly's arms shot out and her hands closed around the lapels of his jacket, yanking him forth until they were nose-to-nose. "No, _you_ need to listen to _me_ , Lupin." She growled. "My son is out there and he is _still alive_ , and I am rescuing him even if I have to _alone!_ "

"Yep," Fred muttered, "Mum's gone mad."

Kingsley slowly made his way around the table in a timespan where no one moved. He came to Molly's side, carefully putting a hand on her closed fist and gently prying it from Lupin's jacket. Reluctantly, she let go. "Listen, Molly. We can't just send in a group of men. Malfoy Manor is highly guarded."

Molly was scowling stubbornly, looking around the room for something, _anything_ , that would contradict his argument. And then her eyes landed on the door. A smile spread across her face. "There is always one person who will be able to get in."

Remus' eyes widened. "Oh my..."

"You can't be serious," Tonks said.

"He's our only chance," Molly argued.

"He's untrustworthy," Lupin argued back.

"I trust him with this."

Remus opened his mouth to throw another claim back into the argument, but Fred interrupted before he could make a sound. "I'm with Mum." He said, surprising most of the adults, but the children in the room seemed to understand his standing fully. "I don't care if the slimy git killed Dumbledore. He's the only chance of getting my brother back."

Kingsley glanced momentarily at the door. "You really think Snape will agree?"

Molly's fist clenched against her side with an angry fierceness, her lip curled into a tense, scary smile. "He doesn't have a choice."

She turned on heel and threw the door open before anyone else could argue and stalked into the next room, hearing Lupin shout from behind. "Molly, we should discuss this!"

"Snape!"

Snape looked up from his book. "Molly."

Molly marched up with purpose, all pleasantries aside. This was truly a dangerous side, one not to argue with, though Snape would never back down from anyone... not even a vengeful mother. "I know where George is, and you're going to help us rescue him."

Snape raised an eyebrow, looking bored. "And why would I do that?" He asked simply before looking back at his book.

Molly bared her teeth, swinging out an arm. The book went flying across the room, skidding along the floor. Snape didn't seem fazed. Molly leaned over Snape, still lounged in that armchair like the snobby git he was. "You listen to me, you slimy, no-good, cowardly-"

" _Don't_ ," His face looked suddenly fierce as he rose, forcing Molly back away from him, "call me a _coward_."

Molly took a breath, calming herself. "Severus." She began as Snape composed himself again. "You don't have any children, so you don't understand what this means to me."

"You're right," Snape said plainly. "I don't." He didn't look like he cared, either.

Molly continued. "But you should well know that when a mother's child is missing, they are truly capable of anything."

He eyed the stains on her dress. "I see that." He murmured. "You caught a Death Eater, didn't you?"

She nodded.

Snape leaned forward, a subtle, but almost hungry-looking smile gracing his lips. "Did you make him suffer?"

Molly gestured to the fireplace visible through the dining room door. "You should wait and see for yourself." She said, then became serious again. "That being said, back to the matter at hand. George is at Malfoy Manor, and you are the only one who can get in there."

"And what makes you think I'd be able to get him out?"

"Blind faith, I suppose."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And you trust me enough, after all I've done?"

Molly planted a hand on her hip. "Right now, I don't care what you've done. Snape, will you rescue my son or not?"

Snape thought for a moment, and Molly could see his analytical mind turning over the details and risks. "I suppose I could give him a Portkey." He said. "That is _if_ he'll trust me enough to accept it."

Molly frowned for a second, thinking what they could use, then she had a thought. She reached up to her neck and unfastened something. She pulled out a necklace that had been hiding inside her dress. It was a crude wooden circle on a string with each of the Weasleys' initials carved on it. "Fred and George made it for me when they were five." She dropped it in his hand, closing his spidery fingers around it. "Don't let me down, Severus."

Snape took it and slipped it into a pocket in his robes. He turned to leave through the door, but he stumbled in his step, his shoulders hunched slightly. Molly saw his face contort as a sharp hiss slipped from between his teeth. He was clutching his left forearm

"He's summoning me." He whispered, a humorless smile mingling with the grimace. He shook his head. "Timing couldn't be more perfect." He threw a weak half-smile at Molly before straightening up as best he could with the burning pain on his arm. He drew his wand.

"Good luck," Molly said.

He nodded once before flicking his wand and Disapparating out of the room with a small 'pop'.

* * *

Snape Apparated into the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, coincidentally appearing right next to the fireplace, which would have been his second choice of travel. The room was empty of all living things except for the Dark Lord sitting on his throne like a king and Nagini slithering along the throne's back and armrests. She nuzzled her Master affectionately, to which the Dark Lord only chuckled fondly.

Snape's footsteps made no noise upon the carpeted area of the floor. He was confused. Why were there no other Death Eaters here? Was he the only one to be summoned? And if so, why? Had something come up that needed his immediate attention? Though questions raged through his head he tucked them away behind his mental barriers along with the rest of his thoughts as he came to kneel before the throne like a lowly dog.

"You summoned me, My Lord?"

Snape felt Voldemort's scarlet red eyes boring into him, but he didn't dare raise his head. "Yes, Severus," Voldemort replied softly. "I have a certain task that requires your immediate attention."

Snape's head dipped lower, his mind welling with self-loathing as he replied like the loyal little lap dog he was. "Whatever you ask, My Lord, it will be done."

Snape heard Voldemort shift slightly, the silence pressing on his ears louder than sound. "Rise, Severus," Voldemort commanded. "It does not suit you to kneel like a slave."

Suspicion tainted Snape's immediate thoughts. He was a slave. And he always bowed to the Dark Lord. What was he playing at? Why was the Dark Lord smiling at him like that? The first theory that popped to mind was that he had been discovered, found out as Dumbledore's spy, but he dared not act on his suspicions and instead rose to his feet as ordered.

"You are aware of our _'house guest'_ , are you not?"

Snape nodded. "Yes, My Lord." He was speaking of the Weasley boy. The one he was there to rescue. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he suddenly realized why he was there.

"He has been rather stubborn to our attempts, so far. He refuses to give up any information concerning Harry Potter."

 _Perhaps he does not know anything._ The question he so badly wanted to ask was right on the tip of his tongue. But he wouldn't ask it. Best not become the next victim of the Dark Lord's wrath.

"Most of my inner circle has been given a chance to speak to him," Voldemort continued. "I, myself, have not taken the liberty quite yet. Now, it is your turn." Snape willed himself not to flinch as the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed venomously. "Use any means necessary."

Snape nodded, bowing once more. "Yes, My Lord."

He turned and walked off toward the stairs to the dungeons, feeling as though each step took more effort than the last. He had no choice. He would be listening. If there were no screams, the Dark Lord would know something was suspicious. He had to do his part... and hope that he could stomach it for the greater good.

So many things felt uncertain as he opened the door to the stairs, but right now, no emotion could compare to the guilt of Severus Snape.

* * *

George's breathing echoed loudly in his own ears, but save for the rise and fall of his chest, he was still. What had it been? Two days? it felt like longer. He was hungry, he hadn't showered, but at least he'd been given water. A surplus, actually. Perhaps they wanted to keep his throat moist so he could speak to confess. Or perhaps it was so he could scream louder.

He was losing it. Slowly, but surely, he knew he would go crazy. They came down every day, more than once. George had always been a funny, lighthearted individual, but on the first day, all his mouth had gotten him was a slap and several long minutes under the Cruciatus Curse. Lestrange was a bitch - that was for sure. But a scary one at that.

His last "session" had been maybe a couple hours ago. He'd weakly dragged himself over to the water to take a sip. It soothed his dry throat, hydrating it. It made him feel better, but worse at the same time. How long would he be trapped here? How long until the Order came and rescued him? And the worst question: how long until _He_ came for him. George had no idea where Harry was, but they never believed him. Every single person who came down, he was verbally defiant too. It would only be a matter of time before You-Know-Who took an interest...

George shuddered at the thought. He tried to focus on his family. The faces of his siblings, his mother, his father, his twin brother, to draw strength from their smiling faces. He could survive. He knew he could. But the aching would always return in dull pangs, bruises from his violent thrashings. Whoever said the Cruciatus didn't cause physical injuries? Has anyone ever been able to endure that much pain without banging their head against a wall?

He didn't think he could take another, to be honest. He had never underestimated the Death Eaters. He had mocked them. But never underestimated. And one thing he would never deny they were good at: causing pain. And he was the subject of their abilities, but he kept his hope alive, kept telling them "my family will come save me, and when they do, you'll be sorry."

How he wished he could still believe that.

A tingling was the first indication of a new arrival. In school, they had called it a "magic sense", the ability to sense the magical signatures of others. Next was the footsteps, defined and echoing. George pulled his legs up further, huddling silently against the wall. This was it. They had come back for him. There was no escape.

The door swung open.

* * *

Snape put on his usual emotionless mask when he entered the cell. Play the part, story of his life. Looking down, he swallowed. On the ground, the devious smart aleck Snape still remembered from the classroom was on the ground, curled into a ball and quivering.

He looked up at Snape, his brown eyes flashing in the dark. "Oh," The boy spat, his voice sounding a little scratchy but no more. "It's you. Come to torture me, grease ball?"

Snape had to admit, he admired the boy's bravado but knew it was all a front. There was no confidence, only bitter hatred. Oh, how he looked like his mother. The necklace in Snape's pocket suddenly felt ten times heavier.

He shut the door behind him, one torch magically flickering to life, casting the worst of the boy's injuries into light. There was barely a mark on him, though he was rather thin. Two days of malnutrition would do that to you. Snape stepped forward, making the boy tense up before he could control himself.

"You have some information the Dark Lord requires," Snape said, his tone carefully restrained. "He wishes to know where Harry Potter is, and you _will_ tell him."

George sneered up at him, uncurling slightly. "I don't know where Potter is, you idiot. I've been telling your _friends_ that the whole time." His tone was laced with venom. He continued, "And I don't bloody care what Voldemort wants-"

Before he could speak further, Snape had drawn his wand in a flash and flicked it, a non-verbal spell slashing a shallow cut in the Weasley boy's cheek. His hand clapped to it almost immediately. Snape's eyes were livid with practiced rage. "Never," He hissed dangerously, "speak the Dark Lord's name." And this time, the boy didn't respond.

For several long seconds, they stared at one another. Snape was aware of the time passing, aware that the Dark Lord would be getting suspicious of the lack of noise. So, Snape got right to the point, directing his wand at the boy who cringed back from its end. "Where is Potter?"

And, as Snape knew he would, the boy responded, "I don't know."

Snape sighed silently, then drew on all the hate he could for the Weasley boy, trying to force himself into that sadistic mindset, to enjoy causing pain, because only then would the Curse work. And finally, once his vision clouded with that unfamiliar haze, he did it.

"Crucio!"

Snape had never actually heard a Weasley scream before, and never had he expected to. It was a horrible sound, making him wince even through the haze. He forced his eyes open, forced himself to look. He was supposed to be enjoying the pain he caused the boy. Otherwise, the spell might cut out when he didn't want it to. But he did want it to. He didn't want to cause him any harm, well... maybe a few extra detentions, but nothing like this. The Curse filled his body with a euphoric sensation of power, but the boy's screams turned his stomach even so.

So, he forced himself to look. But the moment he opened his eyes, he wanted to look away again. The boy was on his stomach, much contrary to his prior position. His fingers scrabbled at the floor, desperately seeking purchase, already bleeding from the rough misuse. The boy's head was down, his red hair hiding his face, but his body was tense. His toes curled in on his bare feet. He almost seemed to wilt under the curse, like a bright orange flower. And the _screams_.

He released the curse, leaving the Weasley boy panting on the floor, weak and afraid. He looked up, the fear evident on his face. Yes, he was afraid. He'd been subjected to the curse too many times. It was making him weak. He had been told of the boy's sharp tongue, but it appeared that had gone with his strength. Tear streaks ran fresh down his face.

Hating himself, Snape asked, "Where is Potter?"

George shrank in on himself, trying to look smaller. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Snape scowled. "Speak up."

The boy flinched. "I don't know!" He gasped.

Snape scowled, raising his wand again. George's eyes widened, he shook his head violently, already on his knees. "No," He whimpered, his strong Gryffindor pride worn away by days of torture. "Please, don't," he pleaded. He looked so hopeless, not at all like the smart-mouthed Gryffindor Snape remembered teaching. How badly had the other Death Eaters hurt him? "I don't know where Harry is," He whispered. "I really don't. Just, _please_ , stop..."

Snape frowned. He wanted to. He really did. But what would the Dark Lord say if he emerged after such a short session with no information? Snape resisted the urge to say sorry as he raised his wand again, aiming it at George who had begun sobbing silently, shudders violently wracking his body even before the Curse began.

The screams were worse the second time, even though Snape knew the Curse wasn't as strong as the first. He just couldn't muster up as much hate as he could before. The agonized keens echoed through the small space, filling Snape's ears with the mind-numbing sounds of the boy's torture. Oh, how much pain the boy must have been in. Snape had been under the Curse before, of course, but he had never had it used on him so frequently as the boy. Guilt filled the pit of Snape's stomach. Why did he have to live this way? To hurt people...? Then, suddenly, the boy stopped screaming, instead sobbing violently. Snape's brows knit in confusion. He hadn't meant to end the spell so soon. He tried again, the name of the spell making the boy flinch, but nothing more. Snape didn't understand... but he did. He couldn't use the spell unless he really wanted to... and he didn't.

Snape growled. He was weak. How was it he couldn't take the sight of this smart-mouthed boy's pain. George's head rose an inch from the floor, his brown eyes taking in Snape for a second as Snape stared back. Those eyes saw right through him...

Snape snarled, marching forth. He kicked the boy roughly in the stomach, forcing him to double over in pain. Snape's hands twitched as his mind seethed with rage. He was going to be killed. And it was this boy's fault. "Where is Potter?!" He demanded once again.

The Weasley boy was hacking out choked coughs, barely able to breathe. Snape suddenly kicked him again, higher up near the ribs. He swore he heard a snap. The boy shrieked, his body rolling over to face the wall, but Snape would have none of it. His foot met the boy's back, forcing him flat to the ground, putting new pressure on his already cracked ribs. He cried out but didn't struggle. Every movement would send pain shooting through his body.

Snape pressed down further, eliciting a groan as he did so. The room was so silent, punctuated only by the quiet whimpers that issued from the boy's mouth. Snape's lips drew back in a growl. "Where is Potter?"

The boy shook his head, wincing as the pressure increased slightly. "I-I... I don't k-know!" He gasped, his voice shaking. "Please, I don't... I don't..." Did the boy even realize he was begging? "I don't know where Harry is... I haven't s-seen him since l-last year... please..." His voice was a whisper. "Just stop... please... I'm sorry... _please..._ "

Every word was like a punch to the gut. Snape felt frozen to the spot. Slowly, Snape lifted his foot, the boy on the ground immediately relaxing at the pressure released. He stared at what he'd done. This had gone far enough. He fumbled around in his pocket, finally pulling out the necklace before taking his own wand and pointing it at the wooden charm, muttering, "Portus."

He knelt down before George, taking the boy's chin in his hand and forcing him to look up. He held the necklace up for him to see, which made George's eyes widen, and his lips part slightly, as if he was about to ask "where", but Snape beat him to it.

"From your mother. It's a Portkey. In three hours it will bring you to Grimmauld Place. Can you hold out that long?"

George's eyes were filled with confusion, but he nodded, allowing Snape to slip the necklace over his head and tuck it into his shirt. As soon as Snape straightened up, the boy let his head fall, passing out into sweet oblivion in a matter of seconds. Snape straightened out the sleeves of his cloak before turning on heel and leaving with a sense of dread.

* * *

 **I so referenced Halfblood Prince with that "Don't call me a coward" line. To be honest, I think what peeves me most about torture fics is that people have their characters stay strong and silent under the Cruciatus. That doesn't happen. No matter who you are, if you had a thousand knives boring into your body, you'd scream.**

 **"Not even a vengeful mother". I just realized Snape has a real soft spot for mothers protecting their children. Speaking of which, Molly's gonna kill Snape.**

 **I hate writing George in this state** **because it doesn't seem like him, but let's be honest, anyone would become this way after a few days like that.** **Well, enjoy. This is officially going to be a three-shot. See you all next time!**


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